Aftermath of A Song
by writesstuff
Summary: Puckurt. Starting season 1. After almost every performance Kurt does, Puck can't help what he wants...and he wants Kurt. Too bad he realizes what he's doing, and runs. Rated T for now. Short chapters.
1. Push It

**Chapter 1 - Push it**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**0000**

Hand smacking Finn's ass, Kurt glanced towards the stands, his hips shaking, his face a cool mask of indifference. He caught the eye of Puckerman, who had a scowl on his face. Turning his attention back to the front of the stage, he continued dancing, singing along to the song, and ignoring the side of the gym the jocks were.

Leaving the auditorium, Kurt left the group of gleeks and walked into the boys' change room, ready to fix his hair. Closing his eyes briefly, he reached up to run his hand through his hair, ready to right the mussed hair.

Hands taking his hips, he opened his glazs eyes and stared into the mirror, meeting the hazel eyes of Puck. Jaw clenching, he closed his eyes again, feeling fingertips press into his hips roughly, Puck's breath hot against his neck.

"Did that get you hot, looking like a whore in front of the school?" he asked, biting at the nape of shorter boy's neck. Kurt shivered lightly. "Did it get you hot knowing what you were doing to me?" he asked at Kurt's silence. "Well?" he whispered harshly.

Kurt remained silent, eyes closed as he took in the smell of Axe, felt the rough slide of felt against his arms, and the grip on his hips loosen as Puck laid his forehead against his back. "You do things to me…fuck, Hummel…fuck…"

And then he was alone again, alone with the remnants of Axe clinging to his back, and the twinge of pain on his hips.

**-0-0-0-0-**

**This is a mini-series I've started—I've got 4 more written—they progress after every performance Kurt's done that I (and any other Kurtsie, really) deem 'sexy' that Noah has been in attendance of. **


	2. Single Ladies

**Chapter 2 – Single Ladies**

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

The next time he does anything remotely sexual in front of Puck, he has to wonder

_What exactly do I do to him?,_ and that is the Single Ladies Dance.

It's after the game, he's left alone because cause of him, they won their first game of the season, and the rest of the players were still on the post winning-high. He only enters the change room when he's sure that he's seen every single one of them filter out of the door before he allows himself to go into said change room.

As he's undoing the strings of his pants, arms wrap around him, and hands take hold of his. The familiar smell of Axe, sweat, and dirt reach his senses and he closes his eyes, breathing in that smell. He can feel those hands—hot to the touch—undoing his pants, pulling his jersey off, and then his protective gear.

He sucks his lower lip into his mouth as those same hands grip his hips once more, hot open-mouthed kisses litter his neck. "Fuck…I thought this…this thing…was because you were fucking girly, but…" another rough kiss to his neck, "You were so hot playing tonight…"

Kurt shivers, his fingers curling into fists as Puck continues paying attention to his neck, hands gripping tight enough to refresh those faded bruises on his hips. He stays silent, but he feels himself hardening and curses himself. He shouldn't be enjoying this, no matter how attractive the bigger boy is.

When he's turned around, he's forced to look Puck in the eye. He's forced to recognize attraction, and want, and he's forced to realize that it's _Puck_ who is making him feel these things.

It's Puck that is staring back at him with clearing eyes, fear, at the same time, unadulterated want. He reaches out a hand slowly, tentatively placing it against Puck's cheek, and swallowing thickly. "Puck?"

Puck steps back, shakes his head once, nearly tripping over his discarded gear, blindly grabbing for purchase—of anything. His hand closes around his hanging shirt, and they share a look together. "I…" Puck opens his mouth once, before shaking his head again. "I'm sorry," and then he's sprinting from the room, and Kurt hears the skid of sneakers off in the distance while the door slowly closes with a snap.

He's left with ringing confusion, bruised hips, a hickey on his neck, and no shirt.


	3. Last Name

**Chapter 3 – Last Name**

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

It's a little over a week later, right after their performance with April, when Puck corners him in a separate room—the girls have left after changing their shirts. His blue shirt is still undone, and instead of saying anything, Puck merely grips his hips. The same hips that had fading bruises from their earlier encounters, and pulls them so they are flush together.

He's been waiting for this, really—catching himself peeking out the corner of his eye at practices, wishing they'd let him be in front and center for more than the obvious reason. It's insanity lately.

He closes his eyes and let's Puck have his way. He lets the kisses along his neck, allows the biting of skin at his chest, and he most definitely condones the fingernails grazing his naked sides. He holds back making any noise, since their friends are only on the other side of a door, and the last time he's acknowledged Puck, the other has run away.

He only opens his eyes for a second, and Puck locks eyes with him for that second, eyes blown dark, and then his shirt is pushed down to his elbows. His shoulders and upper chest are now exposed, and he shivers as Puck pushes him against the nearest wall, the cool surface causing goosebumps to erupt along his arms.

He starts enjoying the sensations of being pressed against the wall, with the other littering his chest and shoulders with kisses and bites.

He takes a deep breath, the same Axe he always smells wafts towards him, and opens his eyes to gaze down at the top of Puck's head, lifting his hand slowly as Puck is busy with his collarbone, and touching the infamous mohawk. It's surprisingly soft…

He swallows thickly as Puck bites him a bit harder at the contact before he's moving away again, the deer-caught-in-headlights look in place. "I'm sorry," he croaks, shaking his head quickly. He stops looking frantic long enough to gaze at Kurt's chest before he's out the door again.

Kurt pulls his shirt up, buttons it in controlled movements, and has to curse himself.

That's the last time.


	4. It's My Life:Confessions

**Chapter 4 – It's My Life/Confessions**

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

Except it's not the last time. It's almost two weeks later, this time. In fact, it's just after their performance, while they're still high on Vitamin D. He's buzzing with energy, and he cannot be the only one who noticed the obvious signs Puck was sending. He's practically skipping as he leaves the choir room to change his clothes—not that the outfit was that far from his usual clothing.

He's nearly done his hair when a pair of hands grip his perfectly coiffed hair, pulling gently so his neck is exposed, and he's staring into the mirror, back into Puck's hazel eyes. They're staring at one another, before Puck bites him harshly. He sucks in a breath, the buzzing beneath his skin intensifying a hundred-fold as the hands continue gripping, continue pulling this way and that—continue to move his head to the side to allow Puck to bite and suck at specific spots.

It's not a minute later that Puck is lightly moving his hips, rolling said hips as Kurt's front is pressed against the sink. He hisses lightly, but keeps still nonetheless. He closes his eyes and feels as Puck's hands trail from his hair, to his face, to his shoulders, down his arms, and then they're massaging his hips. He's far gentler than previous, and that only causes Kurt to let out a small groan of appreciation as Puck juts his hips forward.

He can feel himself hardening, once again cursing his body, and he repeatedly has to bite his lips to stop from making noise. He takes a breath, savoring the smell of Axe and sweat that invades his senses.

Leaning forward, hands braced against the sink, he stares into the mirror, eyes roving over what he could see of Puck behind him. The others' hips continuing to move against his backside. He catches Puck's eye again and that seems to freeze the other boy. He drags his gaze from Puck to look at himself in the mirror, noting the semi-glazed look, the flushed cheeks, and the moist lips, before he drops his head again.

He knows this is when Puck will run. "Puck," he groans out quietly, and sure enough, Puck's invading touch and smell is gone, and he feels like rubbish.


	5. Jump

**Chapter 5 – Jump**

**-0-!There is a switch this time!-0-**

He's lying on the mattress-trampoline-device after their performance, breathless and unwilling to move. It's quiet, everyone else has gone to change out of their over-sized blue pajamas, and he's thinking. Thinking of the last few weeks, thinking of Puck and how they've had little to no contact. Not that he's really expecting it, Puck's either in the closet, or extremely horny, so no—he's not expecting it. He was craving it, however, and he hated that.

Sighing, he closed his eyes. As he was jarred from his pondering by movement, he kept his eyes closed, but tensed exponentially. The trampoline bounced as a heavy figure fell at his feet. Finally opening his eyes, he looked Puck in the eye and raised an eyebrow. Not only has he been avoided like the plague, Puck has gone back to keeping him at a distance. He merely rolled his eyes and looked away.

—

Puck moved between his legs, pushing them out of his way, and undid the buttons on Kurt's top. Breath hitching, fingers shaking, he slid the top open, and willed his fingers to stop shaking as he let his fingers roam over Kurt's chest.

He looked at Kurt's face, body tense, and reached forward to cup the other's cheek. _So beautiful_… Hands trailing down from Kurt's face, down his neck, and down his chest, Puck slowly slid his hand under Kurt's back, pulling him up so they were chest to chest.

They stay like that, staring each other in the eye, and Puck isn't all that sure what they're doing—all he knows is that one, he likes it, and two, this is not even remotely normal.

Kurt moves just the slightest bit, settles in his lap, and they don't move. It's eerily quiet as Puck moves his hips, both of their breathing stutters and stops. He's seriously wondering what this is. He can't articulate what they're doing, and he doesn't know if he wants to know for sure.

Kurt licks his lips, fingers clenching his shoulder with one hand tightly, the other fisted into his shirt. They continue moving slowly and he can feel Kurt's junk hardening, and he can't help but whimper. He'll deny it later, but he let his other hand reach up and cup Kurt's cheek again, caressing over smooth skin.

Kurt's eyes opened and they locked gazes, blue meeting brown, and he can feel all the bravado leave, replaced with his usual thoughts of _Oh shit._ He's about to pull away when Kurt tightens his grip on both his shoulder and shirt.

"I can't—I'm sorry-,"

Kurt doesn't loosen his hold, he lets out a long breath before yanking Puck forward, and whispering angrily into his ear, "Stop it," he freezes. "Stop playing around, stop doing this to me, then, if you _can't." _And Kurt lets him go, scoots away from him and stands, walking away with as much dignity as he can on the trampoline.

Puck is left alone, face burning, and pajama costume wrinkled.


	6. Accompany Fic 1: 4 Minutes

**Accompany fic—4 Minutes**

**Disclaimer: Do not own.**

**This is what I would have written if Kurt didn't say no, and instead Puck freaked out again.**

**PS: Sorry, you **_**will**_** be left in sexual frustration, and mad at Puck :C**

**-0-0-0-0-0-**

Clapping, cheering, it was an adrenaline rush on its own. As he left the gym to freshen himself up and hopeful not smell, he stopped in front of the mirror that he wasn't so fond of anymore. He stared into his reflection, almost glaring, really, and tried to recall hating what Puck did to him. He wanted to hate the satisfying feeling of being wanted—tried to hate that whenever Puck had put his hands on him, he had felt a thrill run through his body—he tried, truly. Even the light teasing at Sectionals wasn't hated—he revered it.

Letting out a low groan, he turned the water on cold and bent down to splash said cold water on his face. Trying to hate what Puck did was next to impossible. Especially the last time they were 'together'. They had been _so close_ to doing something that was more than what they did before, and then he had to moan and ruin it. He groaned again as he splashed another handful of water onto his face. Aren't people usually turned on by moans, and whatnot? He had to wonder _Am I doing it wrong?_

Sighing, he turned around and froze. Puck. "Wha-," he stopped his question and licked his lips as Puck slowly advanced towards him. He bit his lip to keep silent as the other grabbed his hips and pulled him into a searing kiss—a kiss that made his breathing stop—a kiss that made his knees wobble. When Puck pulled back, still gripping the back of his neck firmly, he licked his lips but remained immobile.

Hands were under his Cheerio uniform, gliding along his stomach, and along his sides. He squirmed, feeling ticklish as Puck's fingertips glided across his abdomen. Biting his lip, he stared at Puck, who wasn't paying much attention to anything, other than trailing his fingers along his stomach.

He wasn't going to talk—he was going to see how long this could go on. He closed his eyes as Puck pulled them flush together, one hand gripping his ass, the other pushing the Cheerio top up. He inhaled sharply as he felt his dick twitch in his pants, felt Puck's mouth on his neck, felt teeth bite into his skin—hard enough to leave indents. He distinctly felt the other hand rake nails down his stomach, moving them against his chest, tugging at a hardening nipple in a sinfully hot way.

He bit his bottom lip to stop the moan, tasting a familiar coppery taste, and finally letting the breath he was holding, go. Panting heavily as Puck's hand slowly slipped beneath the waistline of his pants, gripping his ass tightly and bringing their hardening cocks together roughly, he almost slipped. He couldn't make noise. He couldn't. He tightened every inch of his body as Puck repeated the action, bringing him closer to making a sound.

His hands tightened into fists, he slowly moved his hips into Puck with each pull, drawing a groan from the other. They locked eyes, and he knew it would be over. The clearing of Puck's _beautiful_ hazel eyes was a sure sign. He moved his hips once more, feeling that delicious friction, and let himself moan. Bowing his head, he waited for Puck to move.

The hand gripping his ass slowly left his pants, and the other hand—the one under his top, the one that was twisting at his nipple erotically painfully—slid from his shirt and down his stomach, slowly but surely leaving him as well. He was painfully aware that they were both hard in their pants.

"I'm so sorry…"

Kurt let out a mirthless laugh, nodding his head once, "Yeah…"

And he was left alone again, left alone to deal with his 'problem', left alone with confusion and conflicting feelings. Left alone.


	7. Accompany fic 2: Shout It Out Loud

**Accompany fic 2 – Shout It Out Loud**

**Disclaimer: Me no own**

**Awwww yeah…this one has a twist to it… You have been warned.**

**-ha-ha-ha-**

_It doesn't explain the whore-lips_. He cursed to himself. _Okay, calm yourself, dude. Kurt's song and stuff was hot, and stuff, but no—Quinn—she's carrying your baby. You can't go chasing after a dude while you're baby mama drama is going on…_

He's in the boy's bathroom, trying to wipe the makeup off his face with little success, when the door opens. He ignores it—he's badass enough to not take crap from Azimio and Karofsky. It doesn't register that hands are on him until he's turned around, staring into the usual weird blue-green-gray eyes that he's come so accustomed to seeing.

"What are you-," he's cut off by lips against his, silencing him into immobility as there are hands in his wig, pulling it off and then there's biting, and another hand is tugging at his belt. He gasps as the belt is pulled from his jeans, thrown off to the side carelessly, and then Kurt is back, pushing him against the sink behind himself, still wearing that ridiculous Gaga outfit, but he's still gorgeous to look at. Puck groans into the kiss, hands clenching and unclenching in wanting to touch the other boy.

How can he affect him so much? It literally boggles his mind. Hands have finally calmed their frantic search along his body, they have one behind his neck, and the other is caressing him—_caressing_. He whimpers as Kurt pulls away, looking him in the eye. Red makeup is smeared across his lips.

Kurt licks his lips, only to glance down at Puck's lips and trailing his fingers from the back of his neck to swipe at his lips. "Whore lips…" he whispers reverently, leaning forward and biting his bottom lip between his teeth.

Puck groans, continuing to stay still. He can't. Not now—maybe not ever, really. Kurt looks him in the eye and they're clear as day. He's in full control—this is what he wants? And then Kurt's hand is down his pants and all thoughts previous are gone, swept away in complete arousal.

He's watching Kurt, red lipstick smeared across his lips, blush highlighting said lipstick, and wig askew. He grips the sink behind him, tensing every time Kurt looks at him. Lips meet lips, one hand is under his shirt now, scraping manicured nails against his abs and pecs, before they find his nipple ring, and he's twisting and tugging and Puck doesn't know _how_ Kurt knows what he's doing, but he's not going to question it.

The hand in his pants is clumsy, and awkwardly placed, but he can't complain—it's Kurt—it's still hot as hell, and Kurt is definitely enjoying it as much as he is. He groans at the thought. "You…" he gasps as Kurt twists his hand, "You were so hot during your Gaga number," he stuttered out, nearly having to sit on the sink to stop himself from collapsing.

Kurt's pushing his legs apart, hard on tenting that dress-thing, and pressing against his pants. He's jerking his hips into his, and then it's over—he's coming, and Kurt moaning into his ear, and it's the hottest thing he's ever heard.

He's holding himself up, attempting not to slide to the floor—especially while he has cum in his pants, when Kurt trails a finger over his lips again, mumbling, "Whore lips." He just barely realizes that his own spunk is on his lips before Kurt's kissing him again, biting, and licking at his lips. Those same fingers brush his, and his hand gives a weak twitch, hooking and catching the other boy's fingers with his. It's the first _intimate_ touch they've really shared—the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets, from now on, he supposes, watching Kurt step away.

Before Kurt leaves the bathroom, leaves him, he looks him in the eye—pain evident—and mumbles, "I'm sorry,"


End file.
